


Happier

by Valrhona



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valrhona/pseuds/Valrhona
Summary: After losing Ron in the war, Hermione immersed herself in work until she finds herself falling for Remus Lupin. Things never seem to go smoothly, however, and she finds that she’s going to have to fight for what she really wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing-Me-A-Rare Volume 3. Much love to my Beta and Alpha who shall remain nameless for the moment.
> 
> Song Prompt: Happier - Marshmello

“Lately, I’ve been...” Remus began, stumbling into the conversation. “I’ve been thinking. I want you to be happier.” His voice broke on the last words. 

Hermione sat heavily at the wooden kitchen table in the cold light of day and all she could think about was their most recent argument. She and Remus had been up more than half the night and her eyes were swollen from crying. She really needed to learn a charm to take the dark bags away. Instead she sat, head pounding, every word she can’t take back reverberating inside her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the man across from her. Had she crossed the line of too much? Had the flame of their love extinguished in the wind of their anger and frustration? She desperately wanted to feel the fire that they’d begun months ago. 

 

“I want you to be happier,” he said again, stronger this time. 

Hermione raised her bleary eyes to his face. She didn’t know what to say. He was so earnest it was heartbreaking. He was sorry. She was sorry. Both of them were always sorry. 

“‘Cause with all that has happened I think that we both know the way that the story ends,” he forced the words out rapidly. 

“Remus...” she replied plaintively. 

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ll go.”

She couldn’t summon the words to stop him. 

It hadn’t been all bad, she thought to herself on the way to work. After she navigated the early parts of her relationship with him, Remus and Harry had worked together to help her mend her relationship with Ginny. She moved in with Remus and accepted a promotion in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They were in love, age difference be damned. That was one of their fights, in fact. 

“I’m old enough to be your father,” Remus said in a fit of self-loathing. “People will talk.”

“Let them,” was Hermione’s defiant answer. She’d never given one whit what anyone thought of her, because she already knew she wasn’t well-liked anyway. “Boys my age are either dreadfully immature, or were in the same war and came out the other side damaged like me,” she muttered. “It’s you I want.”

She went through her day in a haze, thinking of ways to fix things. Their broken pieces fit together but the glue just wasn’t holding. 

She’d thought that Teddy perhaps would be the glue to hold Remus’ broken parts together, but the boy’s turquoise hair, reminiscent of his mother, and lack of memory of his father at all shattered Remus’ heart instead. After an explosive argument, she didn’t dare try to bring Teddy up again, though it stung. She couldn’t help feeling he ought to be a better father, and Remus had decided to think she wanted to be a stepmother, which was not true at all. Hermione thought Andromeda was doing a fine job of raising Teddy, and she knew going into the relationship what Remus thought about fathering any more children: he didn’t want to. She was absolutely fine with that, as a matter of fact. She had no experience with children at all. 

She went home still feeling numb, until she walked in the door and found Remus hard at work in the kitchen. The house was spotless, the table was set for two, candles were lit, and the aroma of some of her favorite foods wafted through the air. She felt the ice that had begun forming around her heart begin to chip away and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” Remus said grandly as he came to take her coat, “good evening.” He let his fingers graze the side of her neck where he knew she loved to be kissed. She shivered involuntarily. 

“Professor,” she greeted him with a soft laugh. “What have you been up to?” She let her fingers toy with a crystal vase of freshly cut flowers that had been placed in the center of the table, surrounded by candles. 

So we run our course, she thought. We pretend that we’re okay. 

“If you’d like to go change, Miss Granger, I’ll have food ready in just a few moments,” he grinned. 

She hesitated, giving him an appraising glance before she acquiesced and slid her heels off her aching feet. The cushioning charm on them had run out. She knew she needed to do something about that, but she placed them on the shelf in the closet anyway. Later. She would take care of that later. 

She resisted the urge to pull on her ratty muggle lounge clothes, because Remus was definitely putting some effort into this night’s apology. She didn’t think makeup sex was off the table so she dug deep into her wardrobe to find the perfect outfit: her old Hogwarts uniform. The skirt slid on easily and even if the shirt was a bit tight she knew Remus wouldn’t have any complaints. Knotting the tie made her feel the part more than anything, and the thought of him undressing her later made her add the sweater over the top, just to frustrate him a little. She smirked at her reflection and dismissed the memories that tried to surface. Now was not the time for nostalgia. She pulled on knee high socks to finish the outfit, but the right shoes were nowhere to be found. She shrugged. She didn’t need them anyway. 

The look on Remus’s face when she came back to the kitchen sent a thrill to her core. She had made the right choice. Wordlessly, he held out a chair for her and he nudged it closer to the table once she seated herself. She watched him place bowls and plates of food on the table. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower, and he was dressed in a sweater and dress pants that he must have held onto since his days as a professor, though he’d left off the ill-fitting jacket that had been part of his typical uniform. 

“Thank you, Professor,” she grinned at the end of their meal and small talk. He hadn’t been flirtatious then, just pleasant, but she knew she she had gotten to him when he looked at her sharply with a feral gleam in his eye. 

“You’re very welcome, Miss Granger,” Remus said in a low voice. He stood and brushed crumbs from his trousers before pulling her chair out to help her up. She stood and turned to him to stand on her tiptoes and kiss his cheek. 

He startled her by turning his face to meet her mouth and sweeping her into his arms, bride-style. She made a little squeaky noise before she was lost in his kiss. He pulled away to ask, “Do I frighten you, Miss Granger?” he asked teasingly. 

She let her eyes go wide and soft. “My, what big teeth you have,” she said, feigning innocence. 

He growled playfully in response and began kissing down the side of her throat, encouraged by her soft moan. She relaxed into his grip, closing her eyes and just enjoying his lips on her skin. His grip tightened and she was being carried somewhere, she didn’t care where as long as he kept doing wicked things with his lips and tongue and occasional nip of his teeth.

The sound of water tickled at her awareness until she reluctantly opened her eyes to see where she was. Remus had taken her outside and down to where the stream flowed beside a lush carpet of green grass. Fireflies glowed amongst the trees, lazily blinking on and off slowly. Moonbeams danced on the rippling surface of the water and she watched, enchanted by the scene. 

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed as Remus paused to remove his sweater. He was already barefoot and she wondered when that had happened. 

“As are you,” he said in a hungry, gravelly voice. 

It made her feel restless and squirmy so she stood. He matched her movements, unbuttoning his shirt at the cuffs and throat as he stalked toward her. She backed away slowly, teasingly. One glance at the moon in almost fullness told her everything she needed to know. The wolf inside Remus was getting restless for his upcoming night. She wanted to play, too. 

“Professor,” she gasped after he lunged for her and she felt the rough bark of a thick tree at her back. 

“Dentention again, Miss Granger?” he growled in her ear, playing along with his favorite game he and Hermione played. “You’ve been very naughty to be sent to the Forbidden Forest.” His calloused hand crept up her shirt that had come untucked to grasp her breast. “You know there’s monsters about.”

“I’m counting on it,” Hermione murmured. Her hand reached up to tangle her fingers in his beard while she held his gaze. She leaned forward to kiss him and slid her tongue past his lips. She moved her hand down, down, between them and into his trousers to grasp his cock firmly. It was hard and ready; it jumped in her grip and she pressed herself against him as she suddenly ached to feel him inside her. 

But Remus wasn’t impatient. He let the kiss go on as he squeezed her breast and captured her nipple between his fingers with a pinch. When she broke away for air, he ran his hands down her body and sank to his knees. His hands came back up and under her skirt and then tugged her knickers down to her ankles in one swift move. He lifted her skirt gently, holding it against her stomach with one hand as he bent forward to part her lips below with his tongue. She hissed at the contact and buried her fingers in his hair as she pressed herself against the tree. 

He licked and teased her clit before sliding a finger inside to help soothe the ache he was building inside her. She clenched around the finger, trying to keep her hips from bucking into him as her whole body wanted more, more, more. “Oh god,” she moaned as he brought her up and to the edge, her breath coming in irregular gasps. Her clothes felt too hot and restrictive. She pulled at her tie ineffectively and whimpered in frustration. 

Remus resumed bringing her back to the edge and she forgot about the clothes, the tie, the grove. Her vision and thoughts had narrowed to one singular goal, and she held even her breath still as she got closer and closer until he pinched her nipple suddenly, cruelly, and it shoved her hard over the edge and she was deliriously lost in her climax, her breathing ragged. She felt herself lifted, laid down. The knot in her tie loosened and disappeared and she relaxed. 

Remus was warm, heating the space between them like a sun. His clothes were gone and he slid his cock in easily before lifting her so that he was the one laying down and she sat on top of him. Her hands were flat on his chest to steady herself as she rocked the last of her internal spasms out on his cock. His hands skimmed the bare skin of her hips until she was done, her breathing smooth and even. 

“Hermione,” he said in a tender voice that sparked in her brain like a caress of her most intimate parts. The game was gone, mere foreplay. “I’m going to fuck you.” Even his breath was hot on her ear. 

“Oh yes, please,” she gasped. She leaned forward to give him a better angle, but he had another idea in mind. He flipped her onto her stomach and pulled her ass in the air toward him. He drove himself in and out of her, his hands on her breasts for his own stimulation and stability. She groaned at the depth he was reaching inside her, which only incited him to increase his rhythm. His final thrusts were with his fingers digging into her hips until he rode out his own orgasm, letting them both collapse on the ground.

They lay that way, he naked and her clothed but rumpled, their heads close together until the sounds of their hard breathing gave way to the night sounds of the forest. Hermione turned to press her forehead against his. 

“I love you, Hermione Granger,” Remus said. 

“And I love you, Remus,” she smiled contentedly. 

“This is what I want,” Remus whispered as he cupped the side of her face with his hand. “I want to raise your spirits. I want to see you smile.” His hand drifted down to settle on Hermione’s hip. 

“I want that too,” Hermione whispered. 

But it didn’t last. For a month, maybe two, things were fine. Then Hermione lightly (so she thought) again brought up the fact she was perfectly capable of brewing wolfsbane potions for him. Remus had been adamant from day one that she could not stay in the house or on the property during the full moon and his subsequent transformation. She had kept her flat in the city mostly for that reason, but she didn’t understand why he would want to suffer more than he had to once a month. 

If there was a potion, she remarked wryly, that would take away her monthly suffering, she would down it as soon as it was brewed!

Somehow, comparing his transformation into a werewolf to her monthly cycle didn’t help her case. 

She left with a bitter taste in her mouth, spending the night alone in her flat. The next day was the weekend so she bought enough ice cream and wine to drown her sorrows in for the next two days and settled in her bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a collection of blankets on top of the comforter. She had no plans to go back to Remus yet. 

So he came to her. 

“Please, Hermione, I just want to talk,” he called through the door until she let him inside just to stop the neighbors from having too much to wag their tongues about. 

“What, Remus?” she asked sullenly, ensconcing herself back in the exact center of her bed. 

“I was just sitting at home as evening fell, alone with my thoughts. And the image of you being with someone else, well, it’s eating me up inside.” His expression was pained, but it only exasperated Hermione. 

“You think I’d be here with someone else? Who? In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a string of suitors banging down my door. I told you, I don’t want anyone else and it’s really insulting that you don’t trust me enough to believe me,” she snarled. 

“It’s not your fault,” he sighed. “It’s me. It’s always me. You’re right: I am insecure. That’s why it’s hard to believe that I could ever in a million years deserve someone like you, Hermione. I want to change my mind. This just doesn’t feel right to me. Even though I might not like this, I think that you’ll be happier. Without me. I want you to be happier.”

“What are you saying?” she asked tiredly. 

“I think I know that means I’ll have to leave. I can’t keep doing this to you. To us,” he sighed. 

“Remus, did you come here tonight, to my flat, just to break up with me?” If her eyes could shoot fire, he’d have been incinerated on the spot. 

“If we end this now, if we jump together at least we can swim far away from the wreck we’ve made.”

“And what about me? Do I not even get a say in this?” Hermione screeched incredulously. Usually when they’d talk about breaking up she’d cry, but this time either the wine or the absurdity she found in the situation made her angry.

“I don’t think I’m the man you want me to be, Hermione. Harry rightly called me a coward before Teddy was born. You deserve someone who can make you happy all the time. Someone who lives up to your idea of them. So I’ll go.”

He left. 

“A coward?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” Hermione said as she played with the straw in her drink. “Before Teddy was born, he said.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I think I do remember that. He was talking about leaving Tonks and the baby. Said he couldn’t be a father.”

“Well, looks like he was right,” Hermione muttered. 

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Ginny said soothingly. She reached out to give Hermione a comforting squeeze on the arm. “I really thought the two of you were good together. I could definitely see what you saw in him,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. 

“We were good; we were great. He’s amazing and sensitive, understanding, not to mention sexy as hell,” Hermione sighed and pressed her fingers to her forehead. 

“Oi!” Harry protested. “If you two want to have girl talk, leave me out of it. I’ll go watch the game.”

Ginny waved him off. “On with you, then,” she smirked. “I’ll handle the crisis.” She turned back to Hermione with overt enthusiasm and a wide grin. “‘Sexy as hell’ you say?” she asked louder than necessary, overenunciating each word. “Do go on!”

Harry rolled his eyes and disappeared up the stairs, leaving the two women behind in the kitchen. 

Ginny’s face became serious. “So what are we going to do?” she asked Hermione. “You want me to make Harry talk some sense into Lupin? Shall I hit him in the head with a bludger until he forgets you ever had a fight? I’m on it!”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Ginny. No, I don’t think brute force is going to be our answer.”

“Want me to find a fine young man to shag him out of your memory?” Ginny raised her eyebrows. “What?” she asked in mock hurt as Hermione punched her in the arm. “It’s a Wizarding World fact that Hermione Granger does not get laid enough.”

“A fact?” Hermione squeaked. “The whole of the Wizarding World keeps tabs on my twat?”

Ginny laughed hard and loud. “Okay, you got me there. But there’s definitely rumors about your prude little self. It’s a good thing those of us who know you best don’t believe those things,” she winked. 

“I don’t know...” Hermione mused. 

“Hold on, hold that thought,” Ginny said, jumping up from her seat. “This calls for pudding,” she announced. 

Ginny returned quickly with a chocolate ganache cake with cherries and two forks. 

“Plates?” Hermione asked. 

“Why pretend we aren’t going to eat this whole thing?” Ginny shrugged, stabbing an edge with her fork and taking a bite. She sighed dreamily. “It’s soooo good,” she moaned around the mouthful. 

Hermione laughed a little nervously. “Some of us don’t have quite the active regimen of a professional quidditch player.”

“Oh come on, just indulge for once,” Ginny said before stuffing another mouthful in.

Hermione took a delicate bite. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “This is delicious! When did you start cooking?”

Ginny laughed as if Hermione had just told a hilarious joke. “Not me!” she chortled. “Mum sent it over.”

“That explains a lot,” Hermione giggled. “Well, your mum has outdone herself once again.”

“I’ll tell her- I mean- Oh Merlin’s Balls, I promise not to tell her.” Ginny smacked herself on the forehead. “Sorry,” she finished. 

“It’s okay,” Hermione shook her head. “I know she’s still angry.”

“Angry, hurt, grieving... yeah, she’s still a mess.”

“I’m glad you didn’t hold it against me forever,” Hermione said sincerely. “If I could change anything, I would.”

“I know that, and it wasn’t fair to blame you. It really wasn’t your fault. I know I haven’t said that but truly, you can’t blame yourself anymore if I don’t.” Ginny brushed a stray tear off her cheek. “Ah, look, now I’ve gotten us completely off subject.”

“It should have been me, though,” Hermione said, wiping her own tears that had come unbidden. 

“It shouldn’t have been anyone,” Ginny said sternly. “And that’s enough talk about that. On to more pleasant subjects. Like, is your relationship completely over, or do you want to get him back?”

“I don’t want to let him go. I want to change his mind.” Hermione said. “I just don’t know how.”

“Well, what brought the two of you together in the first place?” Ginny asked. “I mean, obviously it wasn’t third year.”

“Didn’t Harry tell you? He was one of the people I got to sign my Magical Creature Registry. But the only way I could get that legislature passed, I had to make it a yearly renewal with interview and all. And his registration lapsed.”

“Well, I can see why Harry wouldn’t tell me. Half that probably flew out his left ear as soon as it came in the right.” Ginny smirked. 

“Harry was instrumental in helping me find him, however.”

“So what made you fall for Lupin?” Ginny asked bluntly. 

“It happened gradually,” Hermione mused. “It wasn’t just one thing in particular. I’d been alone for a long time. After I finally tracked him down and started talking to him it just sort of happened. There was some reason I had to go back the next day and then it was over two weeks later and I’d just been showing up after work every day. It wasn’t until the full moon and the wards were extra thick that I realized I couldn’t see him that night - and I was, well, sad about it. I spent the night thinking about the implications and came to the conclusion that I had grown quite fond of the old professor.”

“Hmm... Professor...” Ginny mused out loud. “There’s not a chance that a hot little Professor/student role play sex would win him back, is there?”

“It didn’t work last time,” Hermione sighed. 

“Merlin’s tits, I knew it!” Ginny crowed gleefully while Hermione turned three shades of red. “Oi Potter!” Ginny yelled up the stairs. “You owe me 10 galleons!”

“I don’t even want to know, Potter!” Harry’s voice drifted down from wherever he was. 

“You two are so meant for each other,” Hermione groaned as she stabbed the cake with her fork. “Got any tips for the rest of us?”

Ginny smirked with one eyebrow raised. “Never be anyone but yourself. Be yourself and extra, and if he can’t appreciate it, then move on. Life’s too short to spend it arguing and apologizing.”

“You know? I think you’re right. We spent too much time doing both of those things. Maybe we worked too hard on trying to make it work. I always felt like I had to do something, or be something to make him happy.” Hermione took another bite to chew while she mulled over her thoughts. 

“I’m always right,” Ginny shrugged. “It’s just that no one wants to listen.” The two women giggled together. 

“Thanks again, Gin,” Hermione smiled. “For everything. I’ve got a lot to think about now.” She moved to stand up. 

“Oh no, you’re not leaving me just yet. Sit back down and help me finish this,” Ginny ordered. 

Hermione did. 

When she returned to her flat late that night, she looked around at the objects that she’d left behind when she’d moved in with Remus. Along one wall she had boxes still packed that she had rescued from her parents’ house, memorabilia from her childhood as a muggle. There were bookcases full of books both muggle and old school books from Hogwarts, as well as her own personal research and nonfiction books. She smirked as she ran her fingers over the Gilderoy Lockhart books she had kept, a reminder of the lessons she’d learned that year about what makes a person trustworthy. 

Remus was trustworthy. 

She missed him, thoroughly and wearily. What would it take to change his mind?

Wandering With Wolves caught her eye and she thought she had an idea. She knew she should sleep before broaching a serious conversation with Remus, but she didn’t think she could skew at all with the thoughts churning in her head. 

Hermione had prepared for a fight, but Remus’ wards were constructed in a new way this time. She spied a doorway through her rose lens, one meant just for her. She smiled to herself and entered Remus’ grounds. 

“Remus?” she called as she entered the unlocked front door. It was still inside. Too still. 

She checked his bedroom but the bed hadn’t been slept in. He should have been alerted as soon as she arrived, but he was nowhere to be found inside. Perplexed, she glanced through the thick curtains that were drawn closed in the living room. She didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t outside. She pulled open one of the large sliding glass doors and slipped back out into the cool night air. 

Hermione found him by the stream, sanding a large round section of a tree trunk. 

“Can’t sleep either?” she asked timidly. 

“It’s been a rough few days,” he said without stopping his work. 

“I would like to talk to you,” she said, dropping to her knees to sit on her feet in the soft grass. She let her hands fall limply on her lap. “I need to talk to you,” she amended. 

“So... talk,” Remus said. The words were clipped, but not curt. 

“All right.” Hermione took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve been thinking. A lot. About us.”

“Hermione,” he interrupted before she rambled more. He used that soft voice that he must know made her weak in the knees and heart. He paused from his work to look her directly in the eyes. “Haven’t we run this circle enough? I can’t bear to hurt you again.” 

“Then don’t,” she said. Begged. She took a deep breath. “I want to make this work. I know we can make it work.”

“I’m listening,” he replied, then sat down on the seat he had been sanding. At least he’d give her his full attention. 

“I have been wrong to tell you how to live your life, I admit that. Or even have opinions on things I don’t understand. But I want to be with you. I need to be with you all the time, even on the full moon.”

“Hermione, I-“ he started. 

“No, let me finish. I want you, all of you. Not just the human. The werewolf, too.”

Remus was silent for a long moment, then, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that. I never want to lose you again.”

“Then let me brew the Wolfsbane potion. It’s the potion, or... or turn me.”

“Turn you?” Remus snarled. “Hermione, I would never intentionally inflict this on another being. Especially not someone I love. Never.” 

“I know,” she said placatingly. “I know, but it’s the only other thing I can think of. I don’t want a separate flat anymore. I want to be here and with you, full time.”

“I don’t know if that’s something I’m comfortable with.”

“Not ever?” Hermione’s voice was thick, almost choked. 

“Hermione, you’re so young. Why would you want to shackle yourself to an old man like me? Not just an old man, an old werewolf.”

“If you don’t know the answer to that, you haven’t been paying attention.” Hermione said in disappointment. “What can I do to prove it to you?”

“I don’t think it’s really that simple. I think we just need time.”

“It’s a good thing we have a lot of that.”

“Do you even know what it is like? To have to watch the transformation every month and know that you can’t even ease the pain, much less cure the disease? The potion only allows me to keep my mind during the time instead of giving myself over completely to the wolf.” Remus’ voice alone held so much pain, it made Hermione’s heart ache. 

“I do know I can’t possibly know what it’s like to go through that, of course it’s awful. But it’s part of you, whether you like it or not. And you can’t be with someone without loving all of them. I’m just asking for that chance. A chance to love all of you,” she said sincerely. “If, of course, you think you can love all of me, too,” she added. 

“I think I like the sound of that,” Remus answered. “Can I add my own terms?” he asked with a glint in his eye. 

“Such as?” Hermione asked, playfully wary. 

“You have to wear that skirt on the honeymoon.”

She laughed and hopped onto his lap. “The whole time?”

“Only for me,” he growled near her ear, burying his face into her hair. 

“Anything for you, Professor,” she giggled as he lifted her with his strong arms. 

“Now lets get you to bed,” he said. “It’s late.”

“Are you tired?” she asked. 

“Not one bit,” he grinned down at her, and kissed her.


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it all started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote these words to get used to Hermione together with Remus as I’d never written them as a couple, and hadn’t written Remus at all. It’s all prologue work since the main story of Happier comes in the middle of their story. 
> 
> I was going to edit it more, add to it, but right now I don’t feel like it, and I wanted to put it out there anyway.

Hermione had been surprised when the scroll on her desk began glowing a soft, unobtrusive blue, indicating a new name had been added to her list. She carefully placed the quill she’d been writing with so as not to spill the ink before unrolling the scroll to see the name that needed her attention: Remus John Lupin, O.M. (First Class). 

Since finishing her education at Hogwarts after the war, she had accepted a position in the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. In her mind, she was going to change the world and make life better for magical creatures. Currently, she felt she’d been more effective when she had run her S.P.E.W. campaign at Hogwarts. The witches and wizards over her seemed to know exactly how to render her as useful to them and as ineffective to change as possible, which usually involved burying her in mountains of scrollwork. Another angle was to either embroil her in research knowing she was nothing if not thorough, or getting her out of the office. 

She had done her best to push through legislation specifically involving the treatment of house elves, but it was her experience with Professor Lupin beginning in her third year that made her want to improve life for all free magical creatures that wanted to integrate into witch and wizard society. She had always thought it was monstrously unfair that no matter his marks or experience, it was impossible for Lupin to get a job once Snape had exposed the fact he was a werewolf. Because of that memory, she managed to start a registry for Ministry-sponsored magical creatures so that, if they registered and passed certain tests according to standards she suggested, they could both get hired on jobs, and be protected from being fired by their employers for reasons relating to their status as magical creatures. 

The scroll in question was a list of registered magical creatures who had failed to renew their registration. Today was the first time she had ever seen the scroll glow and a name pop up. So far, none of the admittedly few magical creatures who had registered had ever let their registration lapse. There was an occasion where a half-ogre had died on the job as a bodyguard, but the scroll had seemed to know the difference between a live creature that did not renew their registration and a creature that had died and therefore did not need to renew. 

She tapped her wand on her desk calendar and noted the full moon was a full two weeks out, so that couldn’t be the reason he had missed his appointment. She frowned thoughtfully for a moment and then decided to send an interdepartmental memo to Harry. 

Harry,

Need to ask you a question or two. May I come round for tea if you’re not too busy?

-H

She decided to keep it short and sweet. After a war she was still mistrustful of people and didn’t write anything down that she wouldn’t want read by the wrong eyes. She sent it off with a dismissive gesture with her wand and hoped Harry was in his office today. 

She went back to work on the report she had been writing and before she finished it, a paper airplane landed itself on her desk, sliding sideways. She quickly unfolded it to read:

Hermione,

Tea would be grand. I’ll come round if that’s alright with you. 

-H

Hermione muttered a curse at her “organized mess” and began tidying up so that when he finally arrived, he only cocked an amused eyebrow at her stacks of books and papers. 

“Hello, Harry,” she smiled ruefully. “Thanks for coming,” she added as she shot her wand at a stack of Daily Prophets she’d forgotten that she’d placed on the only other seat in her cramped office. The stack relocated itself and she gestured for Harry to sit. 

“Hello, Hermione,” Harry returned, “I don’t think I’ve ever made it down here before.”

“Yes, well, it’s not much to see,” Hermione shrugged and used her wand to both locate her kettle and fill it with steaming hot water. Another flick and the tea poured itself as biscuits appeared on a plate. “I’m sure you’ve been busy with... auror things...” she finished lamely. 

Harry smiled and accepted his cup, dropping a lump of sugar into it. “Not as busy as you might expect for now,” he said. 

“But, what did you-“ he began as she said, “I’m sure you’re wondering-“

They both stopped speaking to let the other finish, which neither of them did. They laughed together, Harry’s forced and Hermione’s nervous. Harry made a patient gesture for her to go ahead. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to meet with you. I know it’s been a while...”

“It’s been years, Hermione,” Harry said firmly. He apparently wasn’t going to let her off that easy. 

“Well, it’s hardly like we haven’t both been busy,” Hermione snapped defensively, then immediately changed her tone. “But this isn’t about us. Have you spoken to Professor Lupin lately?”

Harry looked surprised. “Remus?” he asked. “Not lately, exactly. He was working with the Ministry last I heard, something involving Greyback as usual.”

“So he was employed by the Ministry? Like an auror?” Hermione asked, taking notes. 

“Yes, but in a special division. And more like a consultant to the auror department. A freelance sort of thing. Why do you ask?” Harry sipped at his tea and took two biscuits from the plate. 

Hermione hesitated, more questions clamoring inside her head to be asked, but she didn’t want Harry to get testy with her. She took a deep breath and then explained, “He’s currently an unregistered magical creature,” she stated. “His registration lapsed this morning, apparently. I thought perhaps you knew something and I didn’t want to just... owl it.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll ask the department if he’s currently on a mission, see if there’s a reason he couldn’t make it back for that.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione smiled gratefully. She paused a breath, then asked, “How’s everything? Ginny?”

Harry eyed her, but his voice was gentle. “She’s good. We are good. You could ask her yourself, you know.”

Hermione’s gaze turned downward, settling on the cup in her hand. “I know. I just... it’s hard. For both of us. You’re the only one who’s forgiven me.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. 

Harry leaned forward to reach out and cover her free hand with his. He squeezed it gently and held it. “Time heals all wounds. She might be more receptive now.”

“And she could always owl me as well,” Hermione said with a hardened edge to her voice. She gave Harry’s fingers a perfunctory squeeze and then withdrew her hand. 

Harry stuffed the rest of a biscuit in his mouth and took a gulp of tea, but before he could make a reason to leave Hermione had another question for him. 

“What about Teddy?” she asked. 

Harry shrugged. “He’s fine. We were just over at Andromeda’s last month.”

“He lives with Andromeda? And not his father?” Hermione made some more notes on her parchment. 

“Well, yeah. I suppose I hadn’t thought about it. She was watching him while Remus was working. I can’t say I’ve ever questioned his living arrangements.” Harry finished his tea. 

“Thanks, Harry, you’ve given me a good place to start.” Hermione smiled warmly at him. 

“Let me know if I can help any other way,” Harry smiled and stood, brushing crumbs off his trousers. “And Hermione?” he asked as he stopped in the doorway to her office.

“Yes?” she asked. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” he finished sincerely. 

Hermione’s lips twisted into a sad smile. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” she sighed. 

Harry nodded, once, and left. 

Hermione glanced at her notes, pouring another cup of tea for herself while the kettle was still hot. She could go up to the auror office and make an inquiry, but she didn’t want to cause a fuss if he wasn’t missing due to an assignment just yet. Making a visit to Andromeda seemed to be the next logical step. She took a long sip of tea and then grabbed her robes from the hook on the wall. 

****************

Andromeda Tonks still lived in the house she had shared with Ted Tonks while he was still alive. She also still looked alarmingly like her sister, Bellatrix, at first glance. Hermione’s heart skipped a beat even though she expected the lady’s appearance to be initially unpleasant. After that, the afternoon visit went splendidly, though all she gleaned from the conversation was that Lupin had not visited his son in a very long time. 

“I doubt the poor child would even recognize his own father at this point,” she said. Her mouth turned downward in disapproval, but her eyes reflected sadness. “I never discouraged him from visiting, and tried to make him feel as welcome as possible. He is my son-in-law,” she added fiercely. “I always embraced him as family. I’m severely lacking in that department, though Harry and his lovely wife, Ginevra, have visited their godson regularly. Nymphadora would have loved spending time with them,” she sniffed, her voice laden with sorrow. 

She didn’t ask why Hermione was there, and Hermione left feeling like she had visited a sweet, lonely grandmother whose family didn’t come round much anymore. She had arrived mid morning but found herself unable to turn down lunch with the remarkably easy to talk to witch and by the time she managed to make enough excuses to leave, several hours had passed. 

Hermione returned to work to find the deadline for her current proposal had been moved up again, to her irritation. She had to relocate the scroll with its pulsing blue glow to a drawer of her filing cabinet so it wouldn’t distract her while she wrote furiously and edited judiciously. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. 

It didn’t cross her mind again until an interdepartmental memo skidded to a stop against her ink pot. 

Hermione,

I’ll be having drinks after work at the Broken Quill if you’d like to join. Front right booth. 

-H

It wasn’t like her to let something slip through the cracks like this, but she had been busy. She sent a brief affirmation back to Harry and then gathered her notes she’d taken after talking with Harry and Andromeda and made a portfolio to hold them all, having added to her previous notes after reading through them.

The Broken Quill was the sort of pub where the service was decent but not too attentive, the food was edible, and the clientele was solid middle class wizards. Even then, the two of them being seen together would have attracted unwanted attention, so they both used enough transfiguration to disguise themselves to not be instantly recognized, similar to muggles wearing wigs and glasses. They blended into the drinks-after-work crowd well enough. 

“What do you have for me?” Hermione asked once drinks had been served and a muffliato charm cast for extra privacy. 

Harry looked reluctant to part with his information. “I didn’t really ask many questions last time we talked. What exactly do you need to know? Is Remus in trouble?”

“In trouble - no, not exactly,” Hermione replied haltingly, speaking while she thought. “I’m mostly just concerned. Compliance is voluntary, of course, but I believe the more people I can get to join, the closer we are to seeing magical creatures as part of society. I just want to talk to him. Find out why he didn’t renew his registration. Maybe I’ve gone wrong somewhere. Maybe he has ideas...” her voice, laden with disappointment, trailed off.

Harry nodded. “I just had to be sure,” he said. He took a drink from his pint. “It appears he’s just... disappeared. At least it appears that way to the Ministry. He had been working extensively with a pack of werewolves that the Ministry thought was hiding members from the Werewolf Registry.”

Hermione frowned. “Wouldn’t that be the jurisdiction of my division?” She was genuinely surprised. 

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “But your department uses aurors to enforce the law, of course.”

“Right,” Hermione said. “Did you find out why he left or where he’s gone?”

“He will have to be the one to tell you the why of it,” Harry said. “As to the where, well, it appears he doesn’t particularly want to be found.”

“But you know something?” Hermione prompted. 

“He didn’t register with an address?” Harry hedged. 

“He registered with Andromeda Tonks’ address,” Hermione admitted. “And she definitely has not seen him recently.”

Harry nodded. “That’s what she told me the last time I was there, too.”

“Moving forward, I think I’ll be requiring some sort of proof of residence with the registry,” she said wryly. 

“I’m only giving you this information as a concerned nephew of sorts. For a year or so, he did really try to just... be present, in my life. It was nice, to have someone who was mates with my dad around, to talk to, get advice from. But then, he just started coming round less, the owls stopped... my life had gotten busier so I didn’t really notice at first. I should have reached out more, probably. He said he understood; young love and all that...”

Hermione smiled with a touch of sadness at those words. “I know how easy it is to just... fall out of contact with people. Even when you love them,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Harry’s eyes softened with his own remorse. “It’s alright, Hermione.”

“I know,” she said briskly, forcing a smile to push the subject away. 

Harry cleared the thickness from his throat. “So, I only tell you this in extreme confidence. I would prefer you swear that you will not use the information to harm him in any way.”

“Of course not, Harry,” Hermione said. “I swear it.”

“There was a place I went with him a few times. It’s a forest solidly within wizard territory, and it’s well protected. You won’t find it unless you know how to look for it.”

 

*******

Hermione followed Harry’s instructions to the letter, and she still made three passes before she found the last marker. She marveled at how invisibly the property was hidden. If she tried flying directly at it, she found herself neatly turned away without even noticing. Even now, standing at the marker, it was hard to find any traces of magic at all. She pulled a leather case out of her bag and began looking through a series of lenses of different shapes and colors. With the lenses and some concentration, she finally found what Harry had told her to look for: the one entrance to the grove. 

Once through the illusion, she found herself at the edge of a wooded lot. A simple dirt path wound its way into the thick brush. She followed the curving path, her eyes wide to take in her surroundings. It was unnervingly quiet, as if the forest was devoid of normal woodland creatures, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She regretted putting the looking glasses away, but fought the urge to pull them out to overanalyze everything. She did keep her hand on her wand, however, just in case. 

Despite her trepidation she soon ran out of path and before what she assumed was Remus’ house. It was a beautifully built house of wood, stone and glass. It seemed small at first, but the more she looked, the more she could see built cleverly to blend into the trees surrounding it. She felt nervous, intruding where she wasn’t invited. She had to dredge up some Gryffindor courage to propel herself to the front door. 

There was an old-fashioned knocker in the shape of an acorn on the door, and she banged it three times. The sound seemed to reverberate inside her head with magic. Nothing else happened. 

“Hello!” she called out. 

Still nothing. 

She tried the door, but it was locked, and heavy. She tried a quick alohomora, but she wasn’t surprised when it didn’t budge. She was just reaching her hand up to knock again when the door opened suddenly, startling her. 

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” Lupin’s voice, low and scratchy, came from the other side. 

“I didn’t-“ Hermione began, but she was cut off immediately. 

“It was rhetorical,” he grouched. “I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to tell you I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re about? No, it wouldn’t,” he sighed heavily before she had a chance to answer. He opened the door wider in a silent invitation to enter. 

Hermione was immediately taken aback by his appearance. The last time she had seen Professor Lupin he still had a malnourished appearance, with sallow skin, hair that was thinning and graying, and he always wore overlarge clothing and robes as if he could hide that. This Lupin was dressed simply in muggle jeans and a t-shirt that looked like he’d owned since his days in the Marauders. His hair was longer and a full beard covered the lower half of his face and neck. While still lean, he definitely wasn’t scrawny, as he’d looked the whole time she had known him. 

As she stared, he gestured vaguely for her to seat herself while he rummaged in the kitchen for what she assumed was tea, but turned out to be coffee for himself. He plunked his mug down on a side table and flopped himself onto the couch in the living room. It was dark, lit only by ambient light from the kitchen because all the curtains were drawn tightly against the sun. 

Aside from a groan as he settled in, he didn’t say another word to Hermione, who was perched primly on a wooden chair nearby. She glanced around, unsure of what to do with herself. Finally, she cleared her throat and plunged ahead. 

“So... I’m here because, your name came up on my scroll. My registry,” she clarified, “I mean, that yours lapsed. Your registration,” she said, the words stumbling awkwardly out of her mouth. 

Lupin didn’t respond. 

“I was just wondering why, exactly,” she continued. “I’ve just been working very hard on these things, so I want to understand. Like, was it an accident? Did it all just go wrong somewhere? And where, exactly, did it go wrong. I just...” she took a deep breath, having run out. “I just want to make it better,” she finished in a small voice. 

“Ahh, Miss Granger,” he said finally. “Always trying to make it better. And never understanding the reason it’s not.”

He sat up again, to take a drink of his coffee and rub his head vigorously. 

“So help me understand,” she said gently. 

“Is that really why you’re here?” he asked between sips from the hot mug. 

Hermione frowned. “Yes?” she answered uncertainly. “Why else would I be here?”

“In Ministry capacity?” he specified. 

“Well, this is hardly an official visit. I didn’t even bring my clipboard,” she joked. 

“I know Harry sent you,” he replied. His head sank down to rest between his hands. 

“Sent is not the exact term I’d use.”

“So you pried the information out of him, then?”

“It’s not like that,” she protested. “You know people can just have civil discourse and exchanges of information, right?”

He laughed darkly at that and took his mug back into the kitchen to pour the rest of the coffee down the drain. “This isn’t cutting it,” he explained. “I need something stronger.”

“Like espresso?” Hermione asked, to his amusement. “Oh,” she said in realization as he pulled a bottle of fire whiskey out of a cabinet, along with two crystal glasses. She followed him as he grabbed the bottle and glasses with one hand and went back into the living room. 

Lupin pulled the curtains open, revealing a surprisingly modern-looking living room as well as a breathtaking view of a forest glade, complete with brook outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. He poured a couple fingers of whiskey into a glass and offered it to her. Hermione shook her head. He shrugged, placed the whiskey and empty cup down, and took a drink. 

“Ahh, that’s better. Let’s go out back,” he suggested. 

Outside the sliding glass door was a wide porch that wrapped around the far corner of the house. It was built by hand and not by magic, Hermione noted, and recently enough that she could still smell the stain. 

“I’m planning on putting some benches here,” he indicated a circular area nearby. 

“You’ve been busy,” she said approvingly. She had been afraid that he was hiding in a hole, wasting away alone. That didn’t seem to be the case. 

“I like it, the physical work. It helps. Magic is useful for a great many things, but there’s something to be said for working with your hands, your body.” He said it with pride and a hint of a challenge; a dare to judge him for it. 

She wouldn’t, not for something therapeutic. For hiding out, leaving his family, though, perhaps. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, trying to keep emotion out of it. “Why you didn’t renew your registration. I’m assuming you did know it would lapse, since you don’t seem particularly surprised to see me.”

He smirked at that and gave a little laugh through his nostrils. “I did expect you sooner or later, once you realized what happened. I didn’t count on you being notified immediately.”

She nodded but opted not to say anything. 

“I’m sorry to let you down. I know you work hard. You put your heart and soul into caring for people like me. Creatures like me,” he emphasized. “It just wasn’t working out for me.”

“Isn’t there something I can do?” Hermione asked. 

“It has nothing to do with you, the ministry, any of it when it came down to it. I had infiltrated a clan of werewolves living off the grid, so to speak. They hid some members from the werewolf registry, mostly just to keep their numbers hidden. Living with them changed me and how I viewed myself. 

“They weren’t bad people. They weren’t like Grayback and his ilk; they didn’t create more werewolves. They believed in the strength of the pack, though, and managed themselves during the full moon without Wolfsbane potions. I enjoyed living with them, and I couldn’t bring myself to betray them by exposing the truth to the ministry. I had to leave to protect them. And now I have to hide to protect myself.” He drank the rest of his whiskey, growling at the fire it left in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Hermione could think to say. 

Lupin sighed. “I know.” He poured more whiskey into the glass. 

Hermione sat at the edge of the porch, letting her legs dangle over the side. She faced the stream flowing below and when she closed her eyes she could smell the sweet water in the air. It was peaceful and relaxing in a way she hadn’t felt in a very long time. The sun was warm on her face and she felt like she could just sit there for days. She heard Lupin sit down nearby and when she looked over she saw his legs swinging like a child. She smiled. 

“It’s almost like it’s charmed to make you stay,” he said quietly. “It’s why I chose this place.”

“How long have you had it?” Hermione asked. 

“I bought it when I married Dora,” he said simply. 

“Oh, god, of course.” She pressed her palm into her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to...”

“It’s okay. I’ve had time to get used to the fact she’s not coming back,” he said gently. 

“Yeah,” Hermione sighed. “I know what you mean. Fuck war.”

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, and did. 

There was an excuse to come back the next day, and the next, until it became their evening ritual. She would come over after work despite his changing wards, and have a drink in the back by the musical stream. She didn’t realize how much she had come to appreciate his company until the evening she arrived to find his wards shut tight, the layers giving her an uneasy feeling. Was he expecting an attack? She looked through her lenses, the light of the moon shining brightly on the glade. 

The moon. 

The full moon. 

Of course. She was taken aback that he hadn’t mentioned anything the night before. She wouldn’t expect him to be caught off guard by it. With Wolfsbane potions he’d be harmless anyway. She thought about forging through anyway but decided to respect his wishes. It was clear that tonight he didn’t want her there. 

It stung, and she marveled that it did. She hadn’t grown close to another man since Ron. Harry was like the brother she’d never had, she couldn’t even think of him romantically. They’d always be close, like the best friend you hadn’t seen in years but when you’re together again it’s instantly like no time has passed. She blamed it on work, there was always work, but truthfully she was afraid to lose anyone. They’d lost so many already. She didn’t know if her soul could handle it again. 

But it stung to go home without seeing Lupin. It felt like rejection even when she rationalized the why of it. She waited a week before she returned. She told herself she wasn’t going to go at all and then in a moment of weakness after a particularly frustrating day, she found herself inspecting the wards. To her surprise they were simple, like an apology for shutting her out before. 

He was already out behind the house, the door was unlocked, and he had definitely had more than a finger of firewhiskey. 

“Professor Lupin?” Hermione asked quietly, though he had to know she had come. 

He looked at her, red-eyed and surprised. “You did come,” he smiled. “I should have warned you-“

She shook her head at the start of his apology. “No, I should have paid attention to the moon. I never even noticed you drinking the Wolfsbane potions.”

He laughed harshly at that. “I don’t. A poor werewolf like me? Snape was the last to brew it for me, and he’s-“

“Dead,” Hermione said flatly. “You mean the Order didn’t?”

“The Order was too busy with the war to think of me.” His voice also held a flat quality, as if he’d completely detached himself from that time, emotionally. He finished the glass he’d been drinking and went to pour another. 

“I’ll have one.” Hermione moved to sit beside him, in what had become her usual place with her legs swinging freely at the edge. There were benches now, she noticed, starting to fill in the space, but he sat near her. 

Lupin poured the firewhiskey and she sipped at it, the burn making her cough even though she’d been prepared for it. They sat in silence for a moment but she couldn’t leave it alone. 

“You know, I was pretty good at potions back in the day,” she said. 

He looked at her with unreadable gray-green eyes. “Hermione,” he began with a gentle voice that surprised her, “even if I could afford the ingredients, it’s not just about that.”

“I have loads of money they’ve thrown at me for being a war hero,” Hermione protested. “It isn’t fair for you to have to suffer if you don’t have to. I can get the ingredients, I can brew the potion, I can-“

“Oh, I am completely aware of what you are capable of, Miss Granger,” he said. It startled her enough between his wording and his tone that she stopped her righteous tirade. She looked away, and sipped at her whiskey some more. This time, she didn’t cough. 

“How do you see me, Professor Lupin?” She looked away as she asked, too afraid of the seriousness to look him in the eye. 

“I wish you’d call me Remus,” he said in that voice that sounded so gentle it felt comforting. 

She looked up at him at that. “Remus,” she said, feeling unusually warm. She blamed it on the fire whiskey. She should probably slow down. She took another sip and then looked away. 

“I remember you so well, as my student,” he answered finally. “That year was the year everything started to get better. I got to see Harry, the last piece of James in this world. And he was everything he should have been and more. And you, of course, the clever one. You held your own with full grown adults who should have done more to protect you. We tried, we reformed the Order, I met Dora. And then, the war...” he trailed off, his eyes turned to the past. 

“You’ve changed, too,” she said in the silence. “You were a great professor. The best Defence Against the Dark Arts class we ever had. It helped later, when we started Dumbledore’s Army.”

“Another thing that shouldn’t have had to happen. No one wanted to believe everything was happening again, but I couldn’t leave children defenseless if they were going to be left in the dark.”

“It was good. You, and Sirius for a time, too. Harry needed that. He still needs it,” she added, but she tried not to let too much reproach seep into her tone. 

“I know,” he said heavily. He drank more. 

“When I first saw you,” she continued as if nothing had happened, “you seemed lost. You were too thin for your clothes and you seemed both old and young at the same time.” She stopped to look at him, really look at him. “You’re different now. In a good way,” she added. 

He looked at her and chuckled. “I suppose it’s never too late to grow up.”

She reached out and touched the short beard on his cheek. “It’s a good look on you,” she said with a smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. She withdrew her hand. 

“You’re trouble, Miss Granger,” he grinned. 

Hermione shrugged and turned her attention back to her drink. 

“Shouldn’t you be with someone your own age?” His voice tried to be lighthearted, but fell short. 

“I should have been,” she agreed, “but you already found a mate, too. And yet, here we are.”

“Fuck war,” he said with a single nod. “You know,” he continued, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. We got separated in the battle and then the next time I saw her... it was too late.”

“It’s so unfair,” Hermione said fiercely, her voice husky with unshed tears. She willed the tears to stop before they spilled over. When she felt more calm, she continued. “I was there,” she said in a low voice barely above a whisper. 

“It was after everything was over. We’d won. We were invincible. The Death Eaters had all been rounded up - or so we thought.” She took a moment to breathe. “It was my fault. I’d lost my bag somewhere in the battle. I went looking for it, but Ron didn’t want to leave me alone. We were both a bit - distracted. Elated. I’d only just kissed him a couple hours before.” She paused again to drink, her eyes staring unfocused, still lost in the memory. 

“We didn’t hear them or see them. I mean, I didn’t. I don’t even know their names. They saw me and knew us. ‘Look what we’ve found, the Weasley and the Mudblood.’” She mimicked a witch’s cackling voice and rubbed her neck self-consciously where there was a thin silvery scar. “They didn’t give us a chance to react. Their master was dead and they had nothing to live for anymore. She threw an avada at me and Ron intercepted it.” Her voice broke then. “With his body,” she sobbed. “All because I didn’t even think of the danger. We thought it was all over. That when you won, the other side surrendered.”

She drew a shuddering breath. “I crucioed her,” she muttered darkly. “The others ran while she lay thrashing on the ground. I killed them all.” She leaned weakly against Lupin’s arm. Her story was out. “I’d do it again,” she scowled, her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’d do it slower.”

“I think you’ve had enough,” Lupin said in that voice again. Tender, she thought it. He took the nearly empty glass from her limp hand. She heard it clink against glass and then the dull thunk of it being placed on the wood. He moved to put his arm around her. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he told her. He bent his head down so his mouth was nearer to her ear. She closed her eyes and squeezed the last tears out as she nestled into his warmth. “I know you don’t believe me,” he said, “but you should hear it. Anyone who blames you for it is wrong. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Don’t you?” she asked incredulously, as if he were being hypocritical. 

“I’m learning not to,” he said. “It’s a work in progress,” he admitted ruefully. 

“The Weasleys blame me,” she said with a sigh. “Ginny refuses to talk to me. Molly acted like I killed him myself. I get it. They’d just lost Fred, and Ron’s death just felt so... senseless.”

“It doesn’t honor his memory to feel guilt over his death,” Remus said. He played with a particularly unruly lock of Hermione’s hair. 

“It’s just so hard, but that’s a good point. I should be doing something to honor his memory other than beat myself up about it. Anyway, thanks for listening. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about it, well, pretty much ever. Being persona non grata to my best friend’s wife sort of put a damper on our friendship.”

“I should be thanking you,” he chuckled. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had such good company.”

Hermione felt a thrill at the words and the way he said them. She lifted her head to look up at him. Remus placed two fingers under her chin and lifted it just slightly more. Hermione swallowed hard, suddenly wondering if he was going to kiss her, and if he did what it would feel like. He waited, gave her a chance to pull away if she felt uncomfortable, but she didn’t. He bent down, slowly, slowly, and ever so lightly brushed his lips across hers. She moved to press her lips harder against his in response, letting them part to allow his tongue to slip in and deepen the kiss. 

When they finally came up for air, Hermione was burning with desire. She could feel his hardness as she shifted against his lap and knew he was aroused too. “Please,” was all she could say, hoping he understood the multiple needs behind the word. 

Remus answered with a growl from deep in his throat. He stood and lifted her as if she weighed nothing, carrying her inside to his bedroom and placing her gently on the bed. It was dark, the room lit only by a sliver of moonlight from a window with curtains not fully drawn. He kissed Hermione more, longer, and she ran her fingers up under his shirt. His chest was even more muscular than she’d thought, she found to her delight. She tugged at his shirt impatiently and he withdrew briefly to take his shirt off before capturing her mouth with his again, his hands holding her gently. 

Then he broke off suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not...” he started, unsure how to delicately as the question. 

“I know contraceptive charms,” she whispered and tugged at the waistband of his muggle jeans. 

“I mean... have you... before?” He stumbled over the words. 

“Oh!” She laughed, realization dawning. “Oh, god, yes. I’m not a virgin.” 

Remus didn’t need any more encouragement. He lifted her again and laid her reverently with her head on a pillow. He deftly unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them slowly off her legs. She lifted herself so he could remove her shirt as well, leaving her laying there in her bra and knickers while he was merely shirtless. 

Hermione tugged again at the waist of his jeans, but he ignored her signal, instead kissing her while he let a hand roam over her body. He cupped a breast through her bra, then let his thumb slide over her nipple underneath her bra. Her other nipple ached in jealousy. His hand felt so good, carefully and slowly making its way over her stomach to slide between her and her knickers. She was wet already, slick with desire. 

“I want to taste you,” he whispered in a low voice. She nodded her assent, lifting her hips so he could slide her knickers off to join her other clothes. Her bra was quickly gone too, and despite being so exposed, she felt so warm and wound up she could hardly bear it. He lowered his head between her legs and kissed her directly over her swollen clit. She gasped when his tongue darted out to flick against it. 

It was obvious Remus knew his way around a woman’s body and, having only had sporadic sex with a handful of young and less experienced muggle men her own age, she was soon deliriously lost in her own pleasure. It built and built like ocean waves, rising and receding only to rise higher and higher until Hermione shuddered through her climax with her fingers twisted in his hair as she cried out. He played with her idly as he waited for her to come down from her high. 

“That was amazing,” she breathed. “Now it’s your turn,” she grinned. 

“You don’t have to,” he smiled, leaning back. 

“I want to,” she said fiercely. To prove her point, she reached out and rubbed her hand over the bulge near the fly of his jeans. She was pleased to find it was a few inches longer than the width of her hand. She sat up and felt bold enough to undo his jeans and slip her hand down under his boxer briefs until she could grasp his cock by the hilt, slowly letting her hand squeeze the length of it and letting her thumb run over the moisture that appeared at the tip, smoothing it along the head. 

Remus hesitated for a long moment, then quickly removed the rest of his clothing. When Hermione ran her tongue over the head he gasped at the sensation and then moaned, and she felt a trickle of her own desire run down her thigh. She took as much of his length into her mouth as she could, teasing him with her tongue and hands until he stopped her. 

“Too close,” he groaned as he pulled away. He lay alongside her, kissing her again as he ran his hands over her body. After a little while he moved himself to hover over her, supported by his hands and she opened her legs in response. His clever hands had built a new ache inside her and the only solution was to have him inside her. He watched her carefully as he aligned his cock at her entrance, and she shifted her body to help him guide it inside her. She moaned out her pleasure at the sensation of being filled and clenched around him as he withdrew slowly. He started a rhythm that gradually increased while she held on to his body, feeling the muscles of his back flex as he brought himself over the edge. 

They lay tangled together after, catching their breath. Hermione expected it to feel awkward, but all she felt was relaxed. She closed her eyes for just a minute, to savor the feeling just a little longer before she got up. 

When she opened her eyes next, it was morning. The sliver of moonlight had turned into a beam of sunlight that she shielded her eyes against. She was still naked, but covered with a sheet and down comforter. Her eyes opened wide as she remembered the events of last night. She glanced at the opposite side of the bed, but Remus was nowhere to be seen. She smelled coffee and reluctantly got out of bed to retrieve her clothes and find the time. She was relieved to see that she had time to change at her house before heading in to work. 

Once dressed, she wandered out into the kitchen to find Remus sitting at the table and sipping his coffee. He smiled at her appearance and she flushed, suddenly not knowing what to say. 

“I’ve got to get to work,” she said hastily, still afraid of all the wrong things he could say. Afraid that he might somehow regret what they’d done. 

“I made extra, if you want some,” he said in the same voice he’d used last night, that he had to know affected her on a deep, intense level. 

“Oh, I could take it to go, I suppose,” Hermione answered. “Where are your mugs?”

Remus retrieved one with his wand, the first bit of magic she had seen him perform since she had been coming to visit him. 

“Thanks,” she said with a shy smile, finally feeling brave enough to make eye contact with him. 

“You’re welcome, kitten,” he grinned. “Will you be coming by tonight?” 

Hermione felt the blood rise in her cheeks. “I’d like to,” she said softly. 

“I’d like that too,” he grinned even more widely. “You could plan to stay, if you want.”

Hermione’s face turned even pinker, but this time she felt more pleased than nervous. “I’ll bring some things,” she said with a mischievous smile.


End file.
